


Anyway

by Rasiaa



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, Post-Soul Society Arc, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: It may have been a coincidence, or it may have been fate. Whatever it was, they both knew that they didn't want it to happen this way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring my old works from ff.net to this site for convenience.  
> Originally posted: 5/28/14

"I hate you."

And that was that. It was a rather strong thing to say to someone you've only just met, but isn't that just how life works?

Really, it always worked out that way- no matter what was done to avoid the outcome everyone knew was coming but no one wanted, not really. Swerving on the road to avoid that drunk driver could cause a collision with the car beside you. A car accident either way. Avoiding that boy in class because you didn't want to develop feelings for him, but then running into him in English class and when he helps you up with that charming smile, you fall hard anyway. Going to bed early to avoid a fight with your wife- or husband, either way- so that you can avoid that nasty divorce, the distance forces you apart and you fall out of love and the divorce happens anyway.

But was it a romance he was trying to avoid, or a friendship, or something else? It didn't really matter, because when life wanted something to happen, it happened, whether you liked it or not. Their friendship never developed into anything more, but it wasn't supposed to happen, so it didn't. But still, friendship is a fairly strong bond, one that isn't usually so easily broken.

And usually, the people involved don't want it broken. But life gets in the way and, hell; it always gets what it wants.

…

Their duel was short-lived, seeing as they got into some major trouble by the end of it. But that was okay. Even though they could both easily say that the other was an asshole, at least no one died.

It was rather sad that, at fifteen, they could be grateful that no one was dead because of an ancient rivalry that really, really, had nothing to do with either of them.

At school the next day, they both tactfully avoided each other's gazes and focused on other things. Namely, the teacher and her seemingly endless ramblings. And when she assigned them to work together on a project due in two days, they quickly came to an agreement on what they would each work on separately and didn't say a word for the rest of class. And that was fine with everyone.

…

When he volunteered to go to the Soul Society, it was an honest-to-god shock. He hardly even knew Rukia, but there he was, saying that they would probably need his help. As if.

Nevertheless, they let him come along, and by the end of it, with Rukia safe, Aizen, Ichimaru, and Tosen traitors and their unofficial "ally of Soul Society" badge, if they both knew that he had been useful, they made no mention of it, and that was that.

…

Joining him in his admittedly suicidal plan to storm Las Noches was less of a surprise, seeing as they didn't really hate each other anymore and they were more or less friends.

Not that either of them would admit that, of course. That's ridiculous. And stupid. And totally not true, on any planet in any universe.

Everyone else just rolled their eyes.

So when his heart nearly stopped at seeing the hilt of his own sword buried in the other teen's abdomen and that lack of an arm in addition, he brushed it off, the picture of nonchalance, as being a noble opponent for that Espada and demanding that the Espada cut off his arm and leg in return. She and him both called him stupid and told him not to say that, but thankfully, the Espada died before he could have the chance to carry out his request. And after some brief healing thanks to her, if he felt any guilt at all for seeing the other boy in so much pain thanks to him, he ignored it in favor of running off.

…

There are glances of shock, glances of apology, glances of "Oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-that-just-happened!" that appear during the course of the war when, supposedly, they're on different sides. Then, they catch themselves, turn away, but not before that short, spiked ache appears. It's an odd sort of, almost grief-like pain. It's similar to the pain high schoolers get at their graduation- that knowledge that they're never going to see some of their friends again due to differing paths.

Except, they aren't saying goodbye with reunions in mind later, it's goodbye- life or death, and that's what makes it hurt a little bit more.

Everyone else feels it too.

…

"I still hate you, you know," the voice says conversationally, and Ichigo turns to see the Quincy approaching. Ichigo merely hums in acknowledgment, turning back around to see the sunset progress.

Uryu stands next to him, leaning on the railing, also looking at the dying rays. The breeze ruffles both of their coats, making their hair sway out of place. Only Uryu moves to fix it, which makes Ichigo snort and the dark-haired teen stop. "You don't change, Ishida," he says, "Not now, not ever, okay?"

"What's with this?" Uryu asks, settling back on the rail.

A moment of silence, during which Ichigo shrugs. "We'll be fighting each other tomorrow," he replies, as if that's any explanation at all.

A crease forms between Uryu's eyebrows, and he turns his head to look at the profile of his sort-of friend of nearly three years. "Are you expecting to lose?" he asks, more for clarification than anything else.

The orange-haired Shinigami shrugs. "I think we'll both lose," he mutters in response.

This stuns the Quincy into silence. He turns to look back at the sunset, his coat in the seal of the Quincy shuddering with the wind behind him.

Neither of them speaks, not for a long while. Then, "Do you think we'll both survive?" Uryu questions.

Ichigo cocks his head to one side, considering. "Honestly," he says, "I've no idea. We're pretty equally matched."

At this, Uryu snorts. He shoves the larger teen lightly, and says, almost jokingly, "Please, Kurosaki. You're still terribly dismal at sensing reiatsu. And controlling it," he adds, feeling the dense power descend on his shoulders.

Ichigo rolls his eyes. "I've gotten better."

"Better," Uryu agrees, "But not good at it."

"Whatever, Ishida."

Silence. The sunset is just about over, but neither of them moves. As the sun disappears behind the mountain, always there and always ready to return, ever constant and unchanging, Uryu straightens. "I really do still hate you, and all Shinigami," he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his bracelet clinking against his belt.

For the first time that evening, Ichigo looks at Uryu. "I know," he says, "It's only right." But then he turns to the door that leads to the inside of the building, away from the dead sunset and the roof and his friend-turned-enemy. "Good luck," he says, waving, walking away. He doesn't turn back when Uryu says nothing in reply.

Then, when the door has been shut behind the Shinigami for a good long while, Uryu repeats the sentiment, and then vanishes as he activates his Hirenkyaku.


End file.
